


Ours Is a Beautiful Accident

by definekimjongdae (junhyung)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Beaches, Day At The Beach, Dorks in Love, M/M, Photography, mentioned chanhun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junhyung/pseuds/definekimjongdae
Summary: Boyfriends Junmyeon and Jongdae go to the beach. Things don’t go as planned.





	

“This is all your fault,” Jongdae grumbles, grimacing and kicking helplessly as bits of sand trickle into his slip-ons.

Junmyeon only manages to give him an apologetic smile, biting into his bottom lip sheepishly as Jongdae regards him with a mildly exasperated sigh.

Everything is, after all, Junmyeon’s fault. He’s not trying to be considerate by taking all the blame. It really is, in very simple words, his fault. Junmyeon should have taken Jongdae’s comment on his increasing time spent on the internet more seriously. It’s a well-known fact in the Kim Boyfriends household that none of them actually sets aside a considerable amount of time from their everyday lives specifically for social media. Jongdae has a Pinterest account, but it’s only a habit he’s brought along from high school, and Junmyeon is only ever on Youtube when he opens the web. He watches cooking videos mostly, just to clench his thirst of carrying out actual cooking activities because Jongdae has taken to banning Junmyeon from entering the kitchen without supervision. The only section he’s allowed access to is the refrigerator. Junmyeon would complain, but he admittedly enjoys hovering over Jongdae’s shoulder and watching him cook nearly as much as he enjoys cooking himself. Besides, Junmyeon knows that Jongdae is doing this for Junmyeon’s safety (and to save on ingredients that might otherwise be wasted on nearly inedible dishes), so he never protests.

It all takes a turn for the worse, however, when Junmyeon gets acquainted with Jongdae’s friends, Chanyeol and Sehun. They’re both boyfriends, Seoul-born, avid travellers, and have individual accounts on Instagram where they post expressive (Chanyeol) and panoramic (Sehun) photos of their various trips in addition to mundane shots of their everyday lives. It’s like a brand new, refreshing window has opened right in front of Junmyeon’s eyes. It’s all very interesting, and suddenly Junmyeon is spending at least an hour before bed every night scrolling down his Instagram timeline and explore page. Jongdae says he has to cut the habit down lest he turn it into an obsession. Junmyeon tells Jongdae he doesn’t understand. He bets Jongdae doesn’t even know the importance of feed aesthetics.

So Junmyeon disregards everything that Jongdae has said.

But that is all in the past, and now Junmyeon regrets not listening to everything that Jongdae has said. In fact, he regrets it deeply, with a spark of an apologetic ache in his chest, nipping at his upper lip in shame as Jongdae gets even more particles of dry beach sand into his shoes as they stroll away from the stalls and trees and toward the waters.

Junmyeon has woken up this morning with a spur-of-the-moment decision of spending some time at the beach. It’s Saturday, they don’t have anything planned, and the beach a 30-minute-drive away is relatively empty of people, especially when it’s this cold. They can take walks, hold hands, tease their feet against the cold water, and maybe also take hopefully good pictures of the sea and the birds and them that Junmyeon can maybe put up on his Instagram account. He doesn’t tell Jongdae about that last bit, but Jongdae finds out, anyway, as he does with everything else, when Junmyeon hefts his tripod stand into the trunk of his car and his camera into the back seat.

It’s just that he has so many mundane shots of his everyday life up on Instagram and not enough photos of joyful trips and memorable excursions.

Now, the aforementioned tripod is in Junmyeon’s arms as he trudges down the sandy beach, trailing after a mildly disconcerted Jongdae. Junmyeon looks around. There’s only a few people along the beach, ten at most. He lets out a deep exhale.

“We can exchange shoes, if you want,” he suggests.

Jongdae stops in his track, turning to face Junmyeon. He’s dressed in a laid-back blue t-shirt with a grey suit jacket thrown over it casually, and a pair of blue slip-on shoes and grey shorts to match. Junmyeon is dressed in a neat white pullover and a pair of beige slacks, rolled to the elbows and ankles respectively, and a pair of classy white sneakers. Both of their hairs are somewhat styled. All of it is planned, because this is going on Junmyeon’s Instagram and they have to look good for the pictures to come out well. It’s a reasonable decision.

Jongdae shifts, adjusting the strap of the camera bag slung over his shoulder. He looks utterly delectable in his outfit, and Junmyeon would gladly inform him so, if Jongdae weren’t sporting that tiniest hint of disappointment on his face.

He sighs. “Never mind that. Your white shoes will look off on me and my blue ones will only make you look weird.”

“Sorry,” Junmyeon mumbles, though Jongdae is already resuming his walk down the beach, so Junmyeon doubts he hears him. “It’s nice, though, right?” Junmyeon tries, a lot louder, his voice floating over the occasional sea breeze that blows past, “The beach.”

This time, when Jongdae turns to face him again, he has on an easy smile spread over his face. It settles Junmyeon a bit. “The beach is nice,” he agrees, chuckling lightly into the chilly air. Junmyeon has never heard a more melodious laugh.

They stop right before the wet sand, Junmyeon setting the tripod stand down onto dry sand. As soon as he hands Junmyeon his camera, Jongdae gladly slips out of his shoes, bare feet touching the sand beneath as he skips toward the waters in youthful excitement. Junmyeon sets his camera on the tripod, turns the camera on, adjusts his focus, and captures the first instant Jongdae’s foot meets an incoming wave.

“Cold!” Jongdae squeals, laughing heartily as he skips and jumps and twirls to escape the cold water, stumbling back onto dry sand.

Junmyeon captures it all perfectly, memories stored carefully in his camera as Jongdae glances over and casts a smile at him.

“You’re taking pictures of me without my permission again,” Jongdae jests, the unconscious lift of his left brow the only indication that he’s joking.

“You like it when I take pictures of you,” Junmyeon reasons, because it’s true.

Jongdae doesn’t try to dodge the remark. “I like it more when it’s us,” he downright flirts – _the nerve_ – subtly slipping a hand on the small of Junmyeon’s back and flashing him a fond smile, before pushing him out of the way. Junmyeon watches as Jongdae sets the self-timer, huffs proudly, takes his hand and pulls him onto wet sand. Jongdae’s mindful not to go too near to where the waves are clashing at the edges. Junmyeon likes to think it’s because he still has his shoes on.

Here, with the beach stretched beyond him and behind him, and the camera on his right and the sea and horizon on his left, Junmyeon feels warmth and contentment spread in his chest as Jongdae grins prettily at him, the sound of his laugh a perfect ringtone that brightens up Junmyeon’s dull life and hand clasped tightly around Junmyeon’s as he steps closer, closer, closer. The shutter goes off. Jongdae advances to press a fleeting kiss on Junmyeon’s lips a fraction of a second too late, giggling when he pulls away, and tugs Junmyeon back behind the camera.

“It came out perfectly!” Jongdae declares, easily pleased.

The camera didn’t even get the exact moment Jongdae kissed him. It’s a shot of them from the waist up, faces merely inches apart, Junmyeon watching Jongdae with a disgustingly fond expression on his face that Junmyeon tries not to gag at and Jongdae grinning at him with crinkling eyes, right before he kissed Junmyeon. But, well, it’s a happy picture. The photo is of a decent enough quality that portrays their love life wonderfully and Junmyeon can definitely tweak it into perfection by adjusting the saturation and brightness level before posting the final result on his-

“I’m going to have this one printed and framed,” Jongdae decides, looking at Junmyeon pointedly, “I don’t want your Instagram obsessed ass anywhere near this one.”

Junmyeon frowns, attempting to pout his way into Jongdae’s heart, which, as expected, doesn’t work. “We can have it both in frame and on Instagram,” he protests instead.

“Putting up stuff online where everyone you know and don’t know can see makes it feel less personal,” Jongdae reasons. “So, no,” he tells Junmyeon, with finality, and then less harshly, “Just for this one.” He takes Junmyeon’s hands in his, the touch of his palms against the back of Junmyeon’s hands rough and warm and characteristically Jongdae, and steps forward to press a chaste kiss on Junmyeon’s mouth, something that reminds Junmyeon of that one slow, lingering kiss from their high school prom night seven years ago.

Jongdae skips back toward the waves and Junmyeon takes one last picture of Jongdae backdropped with the sea and the skies and the horizon, before detaching the camera from the tripod stand. He slips out of his sneakers and steps onto the sand, wiggling his toes into the plush sand that glitters under the sunlight, as he makes his way down the beach. Junmyeon captures pictures of the sea, of Jongdae, the sand, the birds, and a mainstream shot of his own bare feet on wet sand, perched before a withdrawing wave. He captures pictures after pictures - of the waves, of waves breaking, of Jongdae smiling and laughing as he escapes from an attacking wave, of the seagulls that fly by, of Jongdae charging toward a pack of seagulls gathered on the sand. Jongdae crouches down to scribble something on the wet sand. The wave comes and washes it off before Junmyeon can approach to check what it is. Jongdae laughs, playing a game of push and pull with the waves again.

"My legs are cold," Jongdae whines loudly.

Junmyeon knows it's his fault more than not that Jongdae is wearing such short shorts, but there's no spite in Jongdae's tone. Junmyeon lowers his camera from where he's trying to capture the right wing of the beach, the trees that barricade the city from the waters and the sparkling, blue waters that clash onto sand in perpetual greeting. "How is that possible when you have such hairy legs?" he throws back jokingly.

The instant pout that takes over Jongdae's face makes Junmyeon bubble with laughter. There are more things capable of making Jongdae laugh out loud than there are things that make him whine and pout and sulk in a corner, and this one is definitely the second. Jongdae hates getting teased for his overly hairy legs. He's started shaving them once every couple of months since Baekhyun, one of his closest colleagues, called him Kim Sasquatch, but the efforts are no use because the hairs always grow back in no time. Junmyeon tries to cheer him up by telling him that he loves Jongdae, anyway, that he looks no less amazing with hair all over his legs. Jongdae tells him he's disgusting.

There's not even the slightest hint of a smile on Jongdae's face as he settles himself down on dry sand just by the tripod sand, but he doesn't look exactly angry, either. Jongdae leans back on his arms, his palms on the sand, and Junmyeon doesn't stop himself from staring blatantly at the shift of Jongdae's biceps. Junmyeon walks over and settles beside him. If Jongdae notices Junmyeon's presence right beside him, he doesn't say anything, just leans back with his eyes closed, head tilted backwards as he breathes in the scent of the sea.

So Junmyeon takes his time to drink in the sight before him, of Jongdae's hair blown in the wind and the long eyelashes that rest against his high cheekbones. Junmyeon raises his camera and sets the focus on Jongdae's face, zooming in on his eyelids, the bridge of his nose, the pretty, oh so pretty curls at the end of his lips. Junmyeon stares at Jongdae through the lens of his camera. This isn't something he so rarely does, but it never seems to tire him, and he never seems to tire of it, of his muse and the subject of his art that is Jongdae. He stares, and stares, and stares, keeps staring at the individual features that make up Jongdae's face, the many beauty marks that adorn his face like a constellation of stars on a calming night sky.

And, god, he's so beautiful.

"What are you doing?" Jongdae asks, opening his eyes slightly to peer at Junmyeon. Junmyeon presses down at the shutter, capturing the image in his camera.

He lowers down his camera. "Appreciating."

Jongdae doesn't tear his gaze away from where he's still looking at Junmyeon. "Junmyeon," he says.

Now, without the camera between them, Jongdae can look directly at Junmyeon's eyes, locking his gaze in place and holding him there. Junmyeon's heart hammers pleasantly in his chest, the soft hairs on his arms shivering under the chilly air and Jongdae's unwavering gaze like he's sixteen all over again, palms sweaty and feeling embarrassingly awkward as he gathers non-existent courage to finally, _finally_ initiate a conversation with the cute feline-looking boy from choir class with the beautiful timbre. It's like he's falling in love all over again. And Junmyeon wouldn't mind that, not when it's Jongdae.

"What?" he asks.

Jongdae doesn't answer. Instead, he silently takes Junmyeon's camera from him, placing it back into the camera bag and pulling the zipper shut. Junmyeon isn't expecting anything, not when they're in the open and, although the beach is practically empty, there's the possibility of people looking over, but he isn't exactly complaining either when Jongdae decides it's the ideal time to climb onto Junmyeon's lap. In fact, Junmyeon likes having Jongdae on his lap very much, the warmth of Jongdae around his thighs something that he's come to grow fonder of as time goes by, and Junmyeon's hands come up to rest on Jongdae's hip automatically. He might be slightly puzzled and curious as to what Jongdae has in mind, but he's definitely not unwilling.

Jongdae's hands on Junmyeon's neck are welcome, cradling his face and thumbs soothing over his cheeks. Junmyeon can feel the hot breath that fans over his face when Jongdae exhales.

"The sand's a little uncomfortable against my knees," Jongdae whispers, a misplaced affection in his tone as if he was telling Junmyeon that he's the most precious being he's ever seen.

Junmyeon finds himself laughing, and, after a second thought, runs his hands all over Jongdae's thighs, in a manner that he hopes is more comforting than suggestive. Jongdae's face is so close, and his body is so warm against Junmyeon's chest. Among the combined waft of sand and sea and salt that dances through the air, Junmyeon can smell the faint scent of Jongdae's olive oil shampoo and his aftershave balm. Jongdae leans in to press their foreheads together. Junmyeon wants to stay like this forever.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," he voices out loud.

Jongdae bites into his bottom lip in response, smiling sheepishly as he peers at Junmyeon through his beautiful lashes. There's a pause as Jongdae wets a tongue over his lips. And then he says, "I love you," - a press of his mouth to one corner of Junmyeon's - "I love you so much."

Before Jongdae can shift enough to kiss Junmyeon fully on the mouth, a drop of water drips onto one side of Junmyeon's face, trickling down his cheek. Junmyeon reaches up to wipe the water off his face, except, before he can, more droplets of water falls over his face, and before he can register anything, a gazillion of water droplets pours over him in quick successions, like it's-

" _Holy shit_ ," cries Jongdae, pulling away from Junmyeon immediately before grabbing the camera bag and his own shoes in a scurry. Junmyeon watches Jongdae forlornly with rain pouring onto and down his frame, only getting to his senses and scrambling onto his feet when Jongdae shouts out his name. He only halts to take his shoes, before darting toward the direction Jongdae is sprinting to.

Junmyeon stares sadly down at his slightly drenched shoes, and then at Jongdae's, as he stands under a nearby shelter with Jongdae across him. Jongdae slings the camera bag over his shoulder and runs his hand through his wet hair, slicking it back and away from his face. Junmyeon looks around, and finds that they're standing right in front of a seafood barbecue eatery. It smells amazing and his mouth waters. The sound of the rain fills the air. Jongdae is grinning when Junmyeon turns, and he laughs when their eyes meet.

"That was surprisingly fun," Jongdae confesses, wet slip-on shoes dangling off one hand and his hip supporting the other. Junmyeon smiles. Jongdae furrows his brows, then. "I feel like," he says, "we've forgotten something, though." He looks at his own shoes, at Junmyeon's shoes, and then at the camera bag, weighed down by the camera inside. Jongdae turns his head toward the beach so fast Junmyeon is surprised he doesn't get whiplash. Jongdae's face falls.

Junmyeon follows Jongdae's gaze toward the beach, and- oh.

Shit.

"This is all your fault," Jongdae states as a matter of fact, as rain pours down from the sky, wetting the sandy beach _and_ the tripod stand they've left all alone in the middle of the beach. In the rain. It's soaked. Fuck. "Take the tripod," Jongdae commands indisputably, even as he takes his suit jacket off and throws it over Junmyeon as a makeshift umbrella. He holds one hand open, and Junmyeon willingly hands his shoes over.

Junmyeon sighs, and finds himself smiling despite everything. "Lots of scallops. And kimchi stew for afters," is the last thing that he says before sprinting under the rain, toward the sole standing object in the middle of the rainy beach.

 

 

Jongdae smiles fondly as he watches Junmyeon dash toward their poor isolated little tripod standing in the middle of the beach as rain pours down and drenches it thoroughly. He shifts on his stance and curls his toes into the pavement beneath, trying not to grimace at the wet sand that clings uncomfortably onto his feet.

Jongdae thinks, as he takes one last glance at Junmyeon who's hefting the tripod stand into his arms before looking away and making his way into the eatery to place an order, that he wouldn't want this to be any other way.

Neither of them is perfect individually, but _they_ are perfect, together.

This is perfect.

"Three servings of scallops, please. And a kimchi stew for afters."

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this [photo](http://hello-chen.net/post/147639650058). title is from the lovely suchen duet.


End file.
